Chapter 5

Even a clay figure can show some temper, not to mention that Douma is not made of clay.

He slowly put down the golden iron fan that covered the lower half of his face, and chuckled at the aggressive green-haired young man: "You forced me to do this."

In contrast to his nonchalant tone, the golden iron fan, with pink and purple lotus flowers and green lotus leaves engraved on the fan surface, looked as gorgeous and beautiful as an ornament. It drew a sharp arc in the air and even made a sonic boom sound due to its excessive speed.

As soon as the words fell, a large number of tiny ice petals flew towards the green-haired young man not far away at an extremely fast speed, surrounding him.

The large clusters of crystal clear ice petals reflect the surrounding lights, and at first glance they appear to be emitting a faint glow, creating a magnificent scene.

But the green-haired young man who was the target of the attack was in no mood to appreciate the beautiful scenery. He felt a chill on the back of his neck and his hair stood on end. His sixth sense, which had saved him many times before, was now screaming wildly of danger.

Unable to control the cold sweat that flowed from his forehead, through his jaw and neck, all the way into his collar. The green-haired young man thought with regret that his premonition was right, he really accidentally got into a big trouble.

Without giving it any thought, he stood ready with a solemn expression, mobilizing his inner abilities to the maximum extent and using his greatest trick, no longer using the knife as the medium, but a violent storm formed with himself as the center.

Countless violent green wind blades surged like living snakes, protecting the green-haired young man firmly in the middle. The blade-like sharp ice petals were completely shattered, unable to get close.

The futile ice fragments were spread in all directions by the force of the wind. Accelerated by the wind, some of them penetrated the ground without resistance and created dense pits, while the other parts flew towards the lower-level members who were fighting in the distance, splashing blood wherever they went.

The green-haired young man shuddered as he saw this through the wind wall. He heaved a sigh of relief, but at the same time, he was overwhelmed by fear. He was so angry that he couldn't help but say something without thinking: "That's all. You're so arrogant that I thought you were so awesome."

Seeing that the green-haired youth thought he was safe but was actually seeking his own death, Douma, who was still a little nervous before taking action, felt relieved. He ignored the opponent's barking of incompetence and waved his golden fan again: "Blood Demon Art: Frozen Cloud"

A large number of ice crystals as tiny as dust gathered together, and at first glance they looked like clouds, moving along with the golden fan towards the green-haired young man surrounded by the green storm.

The green-haired young man was very tough on the outside, but in fact he was extremely vigilant. He stared at the white clouds of unknown purpose, watching them being broken down by his storm without any resistance. He was puzzled and very uneasy, but his dignity as a man made him continue to be tough on the outside: "Humph, there is no other way."

"Really?" Douma said in a light tone, his eyes slightly lowered and he no longer looked at the green-haired young man. He just applied a light force with his fingers, and the opened golden iron fan was closed with a snap.

The ambiguous tone and the crisp "pop" sounded like a thunderclap in the ears of the green-haired young man. An ominous premonition grew and spread from the bottom of his heart like a vine, tightly entwining and strangling his heart, making him feel as if he couldn't breathe.

"Huff...Huff..." The green-haired young man's breathing became increasingly rapid. Sweat wet his eyelashes and his sweaty hair stuck to his cheeks. He looked extremely ferocious, forming a sharp contrast with Douma who was standing opposite him calmly.

At this time, the green-haired young man didn't realize what the problem was. He just thought that the reason he felt so uncomfortable was because his ultimate move lasted too long and was too hard on himself.

The green-haired young man who thought so had to disperse the storm around him even if he was unwilling in his heart. Otherwise, he would die here without the enemy having to take any action.

"How... huhu... could it be... like this... huhu..." The green-haired young man collapsed to the ground due to lack of oxygen. He grasped his neck with his right hand powerlessly. His vision gradually blurred as he looked at Douma who was slowly walking towards him. Suddenly he realized, "It's you."

"It's me." Douma nodded in acknowledgement very straightforwardly, thinking that he was just soft-hearted. If he met someone with a cruel heart and ruthless hands, this person's fate would not only be a lesson, but he would also die.

Thinking of this, Douma looked down at the green-haired young man with a look of pity, and kindly warned him, "Don't speak rudely next time."

At this time, the green-haired young man could no longer hear what Douma said. The lack of oxygen made him unable to distinguish the information he received. His brain was buzzing and he was unable to think.

Hirotsu Liulang, who had been quietly watching the fight between the two, looked at Douma's expression, which was as sad as that of Buddha, and his vigilance was immediately raised to the maximum.

As a veteran who has been in the dark for many years, the knowledgeable Hirotsu Liulang knows that most abnormal people like Douma are not easy to mess with.

He did not rashly approach this strange psychic who looked like he was not easy to deal with. Instead, he kept a safe distance and thanked him sincerely: "Thank you very much for your help. I am the port mafia, Guangjin Liulang."

"Mr. Hirotsu, you don't have to thank me. I was just defending myself." Douma waved his hands in embarrassment, and then introduced himself: "I am Douma."

Guangjin Liulang lowered his head to look at the green-haired young man who was struggling on the ground with a purple face. As a mature man, he swallowed the complaints that were about to come out of his mouth: Is it legitimate defense if you kill people without even giving them a quick death?

Suppressing his frustration, Hirotsu Liulang continued to thank him solemnly, "No, Mr. Douma is willing to help, and I am very grateful."

No one could tell that this serious-looking man was just expressing his gratitude in order not to offend a strange and powerful person with special abilities.

Douma naturally couldn't tell, so he took a tentative step forward, and seeing that no one was blocking him, he reluctantly took a last look at Hirotsu Liulang, who also smelled delicious, and said, "No, no, I'm leaving."

Perhaps everyone saw the crushing battle, and wherever he went, everyone would make way for him.

This made Tongma, who still considered himself an ordinary person, feel a lot more relaxed. He didn't want to fight if possible, even if his mind told him that he could win.

Watching my boss struggling... struggling, and then gradually becoming motionless...

The lower-level members of the Takase Clan, who were destined to be the losers, immediately became quiet as a chicken, watching the strange psychic who suddenly appeared leave, and no one dared to step out to stop him.

After all, if they fall into the hands of the port mafia, the most they will do is die. If they stand out at this time and are noticed by the perverted (crossed out) boss, they may be severely tortured before they can be freed.

Fortunately, Douma doesn't have the ability to read minds, so he doesn't know what these people are thinking, otherwise he would definitely cry out for justice. As far as teaching that green-haired guy a lesson is concerned, the reaction is not necessary to be so exaggerated.

Douma, who was completely unaware of his own toxicity, thought that his attack was not heavy-handed. He passed by these people and smelled the strong and sweet smell of blood. He swallowed secretly and firmly turned his eyes away from their wounds.

Fortunately, he had just had a full meal from Nakahara Chuuya, so he was not hungry at the moment, so his condition was not affected much and he was able to

It is known that his current body is the second Upper Rank 'Douma' in "Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba", and his instinct as a cannibal demon allows him to distinguish the deliciousness of 'food'.

For example, the rotten wood smell of the bad old peddler whom he accidentally killed made him lose his appetite; the passerby who walked with Chuuya and those lower-level mafia members had a much better smell, but it could only be said to be ordinary; but the few people with special abilities he met today, Nakahara Chuuya, Hirotsu Liulang, and the green-haired guy who was taught a lesson by him, all smelled delicious.

The answer was already obvious, and Douma's mouth curled up subtly without him realizing it. People with special abilities are the most energy-rich food. They are probably the "Bungo Stray Dogs" version of rare blood.

A strange world, a strange city, and perhaps a strange body? Tongma looked up at the still dark sky. To ensure safety, he did not wander around, but quietly found a hotel that looked pretty good and walked in.

"Ding-dong." The bell at the door of the hotel rang.

Hearing the bell, the sleepy receptionist behind the counter rubbed her eyes and said drowsily, "Hello, guest. Welcome."

"Please give me a single room." Douma made a gesture with his empty left hand.

The receptionist covered her mouth and yawned, then sat up straight and added without looking up: "Okay, please show me your ID so I can register you."

"Identification certificate..." A trace of guilt flashed across Douma's eyes. He forced himself to calm down and rummaged through his body. He found a bulging wallet, opened it and saw that there was indeed an identification certificate inside. He hesitated for a moment before handing the thing to the front desk.

"..." The receptionist paused as he looked up to check the photo. The handsome man in front of him with long white oak hair and colorful gradient pupils was completely different from the ugly guy in the photo. But this was Yokohama, so he didn't dare to say anything to refuse. He signed up in a messy handwriting and handed the things over with both hands: "Guest, take it. Your room is on the third floor."

After successfully checking into the hotel, Douma heaved a sigh of relief without showing it on his face. He suppressed his uneasy conscience and put the spoils he had obtained while saving someone on the road: a bulging wallet, back into his pocket.

After the elevator door that Douma entered was completely closed, the receptionist's breathing, which had been deliberately lightened, returned to normal. Seeing that the elevator stopped on the third floor, he calmly picked up the mobile phone on the table and called his boss to report.

Don't ask why he didn't call the police when the ID didn't match. The answer is that this is Yokohama.

The boss who received the call instructed the front desk as usual: "First, entertain the other party well. I will talk about other things after I get the news."

"Yes, I understand." The receptionist nodded repeatedly.

After ending the call, the receptionist continued to doze off drowsily.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. This must be Yokohama.